Page 44 of God of War

“Come on,” he says, ducking to speak in my ear. “I see an open table over there.”

He grabs my hand and my stomach swoops as he leads me through the room. I see some women checking him out as we pass, their eyes lighting up with possibility. But then they see me, see my hand gripped in his, and turn away, lips pursed.

They’re jealous. Of me. Of broken, ruined, Delaney Jackson. I bite back my grin as we find a table tucked away in the corner. It’s quieter here and I’m happy to sink down into my seat. Ares takes the one across from me, his knees hitting mine under the small table.

“So… You come here often?” I say with a chuckle.

Ares looks up from the plastic menu. “Hmm? What’d you say?”

“Nothing.”

What the fuck is wrong with you? I chide myself internally. This isn’t a date. Why are you being so weird?

The most hurtful of my thoughts slips through before I can stop it: He wouldn’t want you, anyway.

I sigh and slide my own menu towards me. Back home, eating out had been a luxury. Almost every dollar I made went to my ’Get The Fuck Outta Here’ stash in my closet. Maybe I’d treat myself to a fast-food burger now and then, but nothing like this.

“They have steak,” I say, my eyes going wide as I scan the ‘From the Grill’ portion of the menu. “I’ve never had steak,” I muse quietly.

Ares looks up, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “You’ve never had a steak.”

I ignore him, my eyes widening even further when I see the price. “Jeez, okay. So that’s a no.”

I flip the menu over. A shadow slices across the lists of salads and sandwiches and I look up at the waitress. She’s closer to Ares’ age and very pretty, her brown skin glowing at the high-points with shimmery make-up. She balances a full tray of dirty glasses on one palm, making it look light as air.

“Welcome to Oscar’s,” she says, making sure to lock eyes with us both. “I’m Shan. Can I get you started on drinks?”

“Shot of tequila,” Ares orders. I blink, surprised, expecting him to order a beer or something. Shan nods, then looks to me expectantly.

“Vodka soda, please.”

She crinkles her nose apologetically. “Sorry, hon, all out of those. We do have Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite…”

Ares snorts and I shoot him a glare. When I look back to her, Shan gives me a ‘Just doing my job’ kind of shrug, which I appreciate.

“I’ll take a Coke.”

Ares is still smirking, so before Shan turns away, I flip over my menu again.

“And the steak.”

***

Turns out I like my steak bloody. I hadn’t known what to say when Shan asked me how I liked it done. ‘Medium’ seemed like the right answer because it’s, you know, in the middle. As I saw into it and pop the first piece in my mouth, I let out a groan. The piece of meat melts on my tongue, flavor exploding and I wiggle in my seat, doing a little happy dance. I glance up and I’m suddenly caught, frozen in Ares’ stare.

“What?” I mumble, my mouth full.

He blinks, then clears his throat and reaches over to grab one of my fries. “Nothing.”

“Hey!” I slide my plate away. “If you wanted food, you should’ve ordered.”

“How can I, when you blew our budget on that half a cow in front of you.”

The steak gets caught in my throat. I cough, forcing it down, and look warily down at the rest.

“Did I really...” I trail off, not knowing what to say. Ares sighs.

“No. Fuck. I’m— I’m kidding, Delaney. It was a joke. I’m not hungry.”

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